A Bruised Apple

a bruised apple sits
in the place where a woman's head should be
the blankets have been torn from the bed
as if in preparation for a ceremony.
but no one ever comes into the room
could I bear the comfort of a solitude destroying creature?
I want a drink
I want a gash
I want to flick off this soul
of a young boy, trembling
scared of the snarling dog